


Nine Lives

by Jo (jmathieson)



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: First Time, Fluff, Getting Together, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-14
Updated: 2014-06-14
Packaged: 2018-02-04 14:05:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1781749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jmathieson/pseuds/Jo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>That one time Phil got turned into a cat.</p><p>Gifset that inspired this story <a href="http://jmathieson-fic.tumblr.com/post/88718726334/louie-s04e12-in-the-woods-i-started-to-write-a">here</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nine Lives

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wintermute](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wintermute/gifts).



> This story started out as a tumblr!fic drabble, but it got away from me.

"Agent Barton, what do you think you're doing here?"

"Taking Agent Coulson home with me for the night. Don't worry, I'll bring him back first thing in the morning and you can keep running your tests and scanning him and stuff."

"That won't be necessary. He will be staying right here," said the SHIELD scientist who was approaching Phil with something that looked like a Geiger counter.

"What, in the lab? Alone? All night? Where's he supposed to sleep?"

"We'll get a... box." The head of the science department tasked with investigating 'Unusual Phenomena' seemed less sure of his ground, now.

"And a litter box, and some cat food - " Clint stopped as Senior Agent Phillip J. Coulson, currently in the shape of a large orange tabby cat, turned and stared at him. "Tuna. Some nice cans of fresh, human-grade tuna."

"He needs medication for the injuries to his eyes," the scientist said, brandishing a small vial prescribed by the vet SHIELD had called in shortly after the... accident.

"I'm pretty sure I can manage to give him eye drops," Clint said, this time with a glance at Phil, who was still staring at him, but seemed less... stiff than he had about the cat food thing.

"Well, if Director Fury okays it..."

"Call him, I'll wait." Clint grinned at Phil, who regarded him impassively from the lab bench he was sitting on. While the scientist went to make the call, Clint reached a hand out towards the cat, but didn't touch, not until Phil-in-cat-form gave him a long, slow blink. Then Clint grinned a wide grin, and ran the backs of his fingers along the soft, warm fur. Just once.

"I'll have you out of here in no time, Coulson," he whispered, "and then we can go home to my place and curl up on the sofa and watch Dog Cops. Or something else if you want. Maybe I'll just put the remote on the coffee table and you can step on it until you find something you like." Clint grinned again, enjoying the chance to tease his boss for once.

The scientist came back and begrudgingly agreed that Fury had given his permission for Clint to take Agent Coulson home.

"Just have him back here first thing in the morning. We need to run more tests to try to figure out how this happened, and how to reverse it."

"Sure thing, absolutely. We don't want Agent Coulson to be a puddy tat one minute longer than necessary, do we now?" As Clint spoke, he picked Phil up and slung him up to his shoulder, holding the big orange cat easily with one arm. Clint hid his grin as he felt four sets of claws, two in his shoulder, one in his bicep, and one in his wrist, poking in just far enough to let Clint know that they were there, and ready to be used if necessary.

Clint checked out a SHIELD vehicle, not willing to carry Phil-the-cat home in his arms, and wary of subjecting him to the ignominy of a box. Phil promptly put his front paws up on the dashboard and looked out the window.

"Um, Coulson, I'm not sure that's such a good idea. I don't want you to get hurt or something. Seeing as how you can't exactly wear your seatbelt, I mean." Phil-the-cat gave him a long stare, then promptly lay down and curled up in the passenger seat. "Thanks," Clint said, and put the car in gear.

One quick stop at a convenience store for a litter box and some cans of tuna, and they were both trotting up the stairs to Clint's apartment, Phil having made it quite clear he didn't want to be carried.

"Here we are, home sweet home. Ignore the, uh, mess, and just... you know, make yourself comfortable." Clint realized his place looked pretty bad, though Phil had seen it a couple of times before, usually when Clint was injured and needed to be driven home. Now it was his turn to take care of Phil, and he kind of liked that. Clint busied himself with setting up the litter box, narrating aloud to Phil as he went.

"I'm just going to put this here in the corner, okay? I wish I knew for sure if you could understand what I'm saying. I'm pretty sure you can. I'm gonna just act as if you can, because it'll be too confusing otherwise. Okay, so I was thinking we should do the eye drops now, so that I don't forget to do it later."

Clint looked down at where Phil was sitting like a carved statue in the middle of the kitchen floor, his tail wrapped around his paws. It looked for all the world like Phil when he had his arms crossed tightly across his chest, which Clint knew his handler only did when he was stressed or worried about something.

"Hey," Clint said, leaning down and scooping the cat up in his arms. "It's gonna be okay, Coulson. Like that time Sitwell had four arms for a week, or the time all of Strike Team Echo got de-aged to two-year-olds, or the time I got turned into an actual hawk. You took care of me then, and I'm gonna take care of you now. The science people are gonna figure it out. And I'll have your back until they do." Clint was holding the cat up so that he could talk 'face-to-face'. He never knew what insane impulse made him pull Phil in for a cuddle, gently scratching the side of his cheek, and then dropping a quick kiss on the top of his head. He figured that Phil was probably too stunned to react, and that's why Clint didn't get clawed for taking the liberty.

He quickly put Phil-the-cat down on the counter and fished the vial out of his pocket.

"Okay, let's do the eye drops thing." Clint tried to get a hold of the cat's chin, but Phil turned his head away. "C'mon boss, I know it sucks, but it's just eye drops. The vet said you needed them after the big glowy explosion thing that did... this. Just let me..."

This time Phil stayed fairly still until the drops were actually in, before wrenching his face out of Clint's grasp.

"Okay, I'm sorry, but that wasn't too bad, was it? C'mere." Clint scooped the cat into in his arms again, and held him up "You're okay, right? C'mon, Phil, give me some kind of sign that you're all right."

A large furry orange paw landed squarely on Clint's lips.

"Shut up, Barton. Yeah, Phil, I get it. I know you never say it out loud, but you must think it a hundred times a day. Okay, I'm sorry." But again, Clint couldn't help himself take a liberty that he would never, ever even dream of considering if Phil were standing in front of him, all crisp dark suit and shining blue eyes and tiny ghost of a smile...

Clint kissed him. Just a quick peck on the... nose.

"Okay, now I'm gonna call for pizza, with extra meat, and anchovies, too! And you can have as much as you want. Plus there's the tuna. And we're gonna watch TV until we pass out. Sound like a plan? Yes. Good." Clint quickly put Phil down. He ordered pizza, then opened a can of tuna and put it in a bowl on the counter. When he was done, he found Phil curled up in the middle of the sofa, on top of one of Clint's t-shirts.

"Shit, I'm sorry, look, let me just..." Clint tried to ease the shirt out from under Phil's body, but Phil was having none of it. One paw, with a very insistent claw in Clint's wrist made that perfectly clear.

"Okay, fine, sleep on my laundry if that's what you want to do." Clint flopped down on the sofa and picked up the remote. He glanced over at Phil, but the cat didn't seem inclined to move at all, so Clint scrolled through his TiVo until he found an episode of Supernanny. They were ten minutes into the episode when he felt something warm on his leg, and looked down to see that Phil had migrated a few inches over and was curled up against his thigh, chin resting on paws, looking up at him.

"Can you even see the TV? I mean do your eyes work right for it? I remember something about dogs not being able to see TV because of depth perception or something. But you can hear it, right? And you've probably seen this episode already..." as he spoke, Clint's hand moved slowly towards Phil's back, but as he had done in the SHIELD lab, he again waited until he got the slow blink that he was choosing to interpret as permission.

Clint started to stroke Phil's fur, slowly and gently running his palm from the back of Phil's neck to the base of his tail. After two long careful passes, Clint felt and heard the low rumble of a purr. Clint turned his eyes back to the TV, but kept stroking. And Phil shifted slightly, pressing even closer to Clint's thigh, purring all the while, — a deep rumble that Clint thought suited him perfectly. The door buzzer went.

"That'll be the pizza." Clint got up reluctantly, buzzed the delivery kid up, gave him a generous tip, and carried the box into the kitchen where he grabbed a knife, a plate, and a roll of paper-towels. The pizza box went on the coffee table, a slice went on a plate next to it for Phil, and the paper towel went in Clint's lap. Clint settled back down to eat, pointedly not watching as Phil daintily picked the pepperoni and sausage and anchovies off the pizza and ate it.

Clint scarfed three slices of pizza and then sat back and belched.

"Sorry," he said, glancing at Phil, who was industriously licking the cheese off the slice of pizza. "Okay. I'm gonna forget I saw that. Just like how you never mention the time when I ate those bad clams in Bruges and spent the night... well, you remember."

Phil was apparently ignoring him, and continued to lick at the cheese, his tongue making that peculiar rasping sound. Clint turned his attention back to the TV. After a bit, Phil finished with his pizza and sat on the coffee table grooming his whiskers. Clint watched out of the corner of his eye, thinking that that should freak him out too, but it didn't. It reminded him too much of Phil straightening his tie and shooting his cuffs. Clint expected Phil to go off and use the litter box or something, but instead the cat stepped easily back onto the sofa from the coffee table and was dragging Clint's t-shirt across the cushions with a paw. Clint waited until Phil seemed satisfied with his makeshift nest and had settled back down, and then gently laid a warm hand on Phil's back, rubbing just behind one ear with his thumb. The loud, low, rumbling purr started almost immediately. 

Clint started awake. The TV had shut itself off at the end of the episode, and the apartment was silent. He looked down at his overly-warm lap, into which Phil had migrated while he slept. Front paws were draped over his thigh, body curled up between his legs, and the fuzzy orange head was snuggled into the crease of his hip. Clint's hand was resting warmly on the cat's—on Phil's—flank. Clint stroked a little with his thumb, and Phil woke up and started to stretch.

"You look very comfortable, but I'm gonna wake up sore if I sleep on the couch, so I'm moving to the bed." Clint didn't move, though, he waited until Phil-the-cat had finished stretching, and stood up, hopping easily off the sofa.

"Right, well, you know where everything is. I'm just gonna..." Clint went into the bathroom and closed the door. He needed a minute of privacy. A minute to pull himself together. Phil was currently a cat. Phil as a cat had been snuggling with him, and Clint had been petting him and making him purr. It didn't mean anything. Phil was a cat with cat's instincts. Instincts to be warm and comfortable. The purring... was probably just an automatic function or something. Phil might not even have any control over it. It didn't mean anything, except that Phil trusted him. Felt safe and comfortable enough to let his guard down and curl up and sleep with him. Nothing more. Clint finished up in the bathroom and opened the door, to find Phil sitting on the other side of it.

"Uh, hi there. So, I'm going to bed now. Goodnight."

Clint shucked off his clothes and then re-arranged the covers of his unmade bed and climbed in. He pulled the blankets up to his shoulders and curled up on his side with one arm under his pillow. He heard Phil jump up onto the bed. He expected the cat to curl up against his back, or maybe in the crook of his knees—but no—instead there was a cold wet nose at Clint's elbow. Phil nosed his way under the covers then insinuated himself between Clint's stomach and arm.

"Phil," Clint whispered, a little desperately. Phil was just taking advantage of the warmest place to sleep, Clint told himself. The cat rubbed his head against Clint's bicep. Clint closed his eyes and curled his arm around Phil, snuggling him close. One paw wrapped around his wrist possessively. Clint rubbed lightly with his fingers under Phil's chin, and the low rumbling purr started up immediately.

"Phil," Clint whispered again, dropping his chin so that he could nuzzle the top of the cat's head with his lips. "Oh, Phil." The paw around his wrist tightened and the purring got louder.

Clint swallowed around the lump in his throat, closed his eyes, and started to whisper into the warm soft fur:

"I don't know if you can understand me, Phil. And even if you can, I don't know if you'll remember any of this after you turn back into you, but I can't... I can't not say it. I know you're probably just cuddling with me for warmth, but... having you here, like this, is something I've wanted for a long, long time." Clint was quiet for a bit, kissing the top of Phil's head between his ears again and again.

"I don't know if there's any chance you could ever feel the same way about me, but you deserve to know that I care about you. That I..." but even in the dark, whispering into the fur of a purring cat, Clint couldn't bring himself to say any more. "Anyway, don't worry, nothing's gonna change. I just... thought you should know."

Phil purred. Clint held him close and stroked his soft fur. Eventually, they both fell asleep.

~~~~~~

Clint woke up warm and snuggled close to... Phil. Not Phil-the-cat, but Phil-the human, stretched out in his bed, in his arms, naked. Clint was spooned behind Phil, with his arm was wrapped around Phil's chest, touching skin and hair, not fur. One of Clint's legs was thrown across Phil's long, muscular, entirely human legs.

Clint lay there for a minute, drinking it all in, enjoying, just for a moment, the feeling of having a warm, naked Phil Coulson in his arms. Then his dick started to get a little too interested in the 'naked' part, and Clint tried to edge carefully away from Phil's warm back.

"Don't." The word came out as a croak, but a hand on Clint's arm, holding him where he was, made Phil's meaning obvious. Phil cleared his throat. "Did you mean what you said last night?"

"You, uh... you heard all that, huh?" Clint could feel his face heating up, and he was glad Phil couldn't see it.

"Every word." Phil was rubbing his thumb in slow sweeps across the back of Clint's hand where where it was captive against Phil's chest. "I care about you too, Clint. I... do you want this? Us?"

"Yeah." It felt like all the air had rushed out of Clint's lungs with that one syllable.

"It can't be a casual thing." Phil said quietly and evenly. "I can't do that. Not with you."

"I suck at relationships." Clint whispered to the back of Phil's head.

"Is that why you never said anything, never let me know how you felt?" Phil's thumb was still rubbing soothingly. Clint wished for a moment that he could purr in response.

"That, and I never figured there was any chance you'd be interested. Plus, aren't there rules or something? You're my boss, kinda. I just figured..." Clint's voice was small and quiet.

Phil moved. Not releasing his hold on Clint's arm, he rolled over onto his back so that he could look up into Clint's face.

"Clint, I care about you, and I want you, and I want to be in a relationship with you."

"Um... Good. That's good. I want that too. Those. That..."

"Come here," Phil said, pulling Clint down for a kiss. For just a fraction of a second, Clint expected to encounter a cold, wet nose and fur instead of lips, but then Phil's mouth was on his, soft and warm and wonderful.

The kiss started slow and gentle, just a simple press of lips. Clint still couldn't really believe that this was actually happening, that it wasn't some sort of weird wish-fulfillment dream, so he let Phil lead, and simply returned the soft kisses. Phil pulled Clint closer and Clint slid his fingers into the coarse dark hair on Phil's chest, reassuring himself by touch that it wasn't soft orange fur. Phil's lips parted slightly, caressing Clint's mouth with a delicacy that made Clint's heart ache.

They kissed and kissed, exploring, mapping, learning each other. Phil let his tongue slip past his teeth and Clint opened to him and moaned as he tasted Phil's mouth for the first time. Phil's hand was still on his arm, gripping firmly as if he was afraid Clint might try to run away. Clint shifted, draping himself over Phil's body, warm skin to warm skin.

The kisses become deeper and needier. One of Clint's legs slipped between Phil's thighs, and Phil moaned and broke away from the kiss, gasping a little. Before Clint could ask a worried question, Phil was pressing soft little kisses along his throat.

"I curled up on your shirt because it smelled of you, and that made me feel safe. Because you make me feel safe," Phil said and then paused to suck a hickey into the hollow below Clint's jaw.

"I climbed into your lap because I thought it might be the only chance I would ever have to be that close to you." Phil kissed along Clint's jaw, back to his mouth.

"I crawled into bed with you because I wanted you to touch me and hold me." Phil finally took his hand off Clint's arm and laid it in the middle of Clint's broad chest, then skimmed down over ribs and taught abs, before coming to rest lightly on Clint's hard cock. "Touch me, Clint."

"Phil," Clint said, and his voice sounded desperate even to his own ears. "Oh God, Phil." Clint's fingers curled in the dark hair on Phil's chest before untangling themselves. With Phil's hand on his cock, stroking lightly, it took all of Clint's concentration to move his hand to Phil's hip, then slide it over until it met the hot, tight skin of Phil's erection. Phil's hand was on him, and his hand was on Phil, and both hands were pumping slowly up and down and... Their wrists bumped each other, and they both laughed.

"Here," said Clint taking a deep breath to settle himself a little, "let's try like this." He shifted his hips, and then urged Phil to roll up onto his side so that they were face-to-face, hard cocks bumping and rubbing. Clint laced his fingers through Phil's, then wrapped their hands around both hard dicks. Phil moaned.

"Good?" Clint asked with a grin.

"You know it is." Phil smiled back at him.

"Yeah, I do. Next time," Clint said, already panting for breath and rocking his hips a little in time to the slide of their joined hands. "Next time I want you to fuck me."

This time Phil actually growled.

"You like that idea? You want that Phil? You want to fuck me? To push this gorgeous cock of yours deep into my ass and nail me good?"

"Fuck, Clint." Phil's hips got in on the action and it only took a moments before they found a smooth, fast rhythm of thrusting and stroking. "Yes. Yes I want to fuck you. I want to pound your ass... so... hard..."

"Want you to. Want you to take me. Want you to have me. Phil. Fuck. Phil." Clint came with a shout and the hot, slick slide of his come pushed Phil over the edge. Phil came with a gasp and a quiet sigh, and then dropped his head onto Clint's shoulder. Clint kissed the thin sweat-damp hair at his temple again and again.

"Is kissing my hair going to be a thing?" Phil asked, and even though his voice was slightly muffled, Clint could hear the fond smile in it.

"Probably. You have a problem with that?"

"Nope, just so long as you realize there's going to be less and less of it as time goes by."

Clint kissed Phil again. When he spoke his voice was a little rough.

"You, ah... you sure you're gonna be willing to put up with me that long?"

Phil lifted his head off Clint's shoulder and kissed him once, softly on the lips before answering.

"If I had nine lives, Clint, I'd want to spend all nine of them with you."

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to the STCC gang for finding my typos.
> 
> Find me on tumblr at [Jo Mathieson](http://jmathieson-fic.tumblr.com/).


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